


When Losing Doesn't Seem So Bad

by alylynn122



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Androids, Canon Compliant, Child Loss, Friendship, Humanity, Hurt/Comfort, POV Hank Anderson, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alylynn122/pseuds/alylynn122
Summary: Damn it all, Hank cares more about that fucking android than he wants to admit.Scenes I felt were missing from Detroit: Become Human. After Kamski, before CyberLife Connor, and after the ceasefire. Little one shots of Connor and Hank's relationship developing over time.





	When Losing Doesn't Seem So Bad

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure whether I wanted Hank and Connor to have a father-son relationship here, or a romantic one. I am a huge fan of both, so I decided to leave it up to you. Please leave a review to tell me what you thought. 
> 
> (Personal Note: I lost my brother to addiction three years ago, and writing this fic is how I am trying to process the upcoming anniversary. Seeing as it is mostly therapeutic, please excuse any inconsistencies or errors.)

The drive back was quiet, oddly so. Hank had come to expect, even appreciate, Connor’s relentless chatter. The way the android seemed to need to talk out the case details, as if it helped him process them, had helped quiet Hank’s thoughts. And now, Hank could really use the quiet.   
  
Today was the day he realized what exactly Connor was, why he was so driven, why he had this relentless need to drag Hank out to cases at all hours of the day. And it wasn’t because he was programmed to, or because he had a “mission” or whatever. No, Connor was so driven for a very human reason, and that reason was going to keep Hank up at night for weeks to come, because he should have seen Connor’s motive earlier.   
  
He didn’t want to die.   
  
Connor had empathized with that Chloe, but in order to empathize, you needed to experience the emotion first. This was the revelation that had Hank’s mind spinning, had him questioning and guilting himself over all the times he had mistreated Connor, had slowed him or distracted him. Hank could complain all he wanted about losing sleep, cold showers, no lunch breaks. But at the end of the day, at the end of this investigation, he got to go home and call it a day. He could reward himself with some good whiskey and a greasy pizza, whether he succeeded or not. But for Connor?   
  
Connor spent day and night trying to solve this investigation, because doing so was the only way to save his life. He hadn’t shot that Chloe, hadn’t been able to, because he knew what it felt like to be afraid to die. And the fact that this could easily have been Connor’s first real emotion was depressing as Hell.   
  
_Damn it._   
  
Hank steered the car to the snow covered shoulder of the road, applying the breaks and throwing it into park before it had even stopped sliding.   
  
“Connor.”   
  
“Yes, lieutenant?”   
  
“What happens if we don’t finish this investigation?”   
  
The android’s LED flashed yellow and he bowed his head, either out of respect or fear, but brought his eyes back up to meet Hank’s with the barest flicker of emotion.   
  
“The deviants will likely cause a war, and endanger countless human lives in the process. They….”   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Hank snapped, swiping his hand through the air as if clearing cobwebs, shattering the no-doubt carefully constructed answer Connor was about to give him, “I meant, what happens to you?”   
  
“I…” the android paused, his LED flickering between red and yellow, words seemingly caught in his throat, “I will be deactivated, and they will go through my memories to determine why I failed.”   
  
Hank had to give it to the guy- bot, whatever-, he let very little fear show. But he was a cop, and he hadn’t gotten to where he was today without being able to read body language. Connor’s hands were clenched, fingers twitching, eyes disconnected, words calculated. His pupils were dilated, movements jerky. The kid was afraid, it was simple as that. He could read it as easily as any human, and maybe that fact should have scared him, cause Connor wasn’t human. But it didn’t, because Connor was alive. And species differences be damned, this kid was terrified of the possibility he was going to die.   
  
“Thought so,” Hank said, more to himself than to Connor. He urged the car back into drive and brought the car back onto the road, hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel, looking pointedly ahead. He felt Connor’s eyes on him from time to time, but the android didn’t question him further. His LED was still yellow.   


* * *

  
  
Hank drove him home. There was nowhere else to go, and he sure as hell wasn’t going back to work right now. He needed a drink, but more importantly, he needed to have a talk with Connor. And to do that, he needed a drink.   
  
The android followed him into his house without comment, stopping to pet Sumo on the way to the kitchen. It was odd, how quickly he had assimilated himself into Hank’s life. He looked right, standing behind him by the table, watching with concealed distaste as Hank poured himself a double.   
  
“Relax, Mother Teresa, I’m not getting shitfaced. I just needed a drink. Damn, Kamski was… He was something else. I should’a shot him when he pulled that gun. You didn’t…. Hell, Connor, that wasn’t fucking fair what he did to you, but you did the right thing.”   
  
Connor didn’t react to his senseless monologue, at least not in any way Hank could see, but he didn’t look displeased either, so… progress?   
  
“Have a seat, kid, fuck, you’re making _me_ tired.”   
  
Connor lowered himself into the chair beside him, while Hank dropped into his usual seat, downing half the glass before looking at the android again.   
  
“I should have pulled the trigger,” Connor said, startling Hank into looking up at him.   
  
“Like hell you should have. That girl shouldn’t have to die for a damn investigation.”   
  
“Lieutenant, she wasn’t a ‘girl’. She was a machine, like me…”   
  
“Oh don’t give me that bullshit, Connor,” Hank interrupted, slamming his empty glass down hard enough to wake Sumo, who was dozing in his corner, “She was every bit as a alive as you.”     
  
“I am not alive, I am simply…”   
  
“Alive.”   


Connor looked less than enthused with his interruptions, but Hank wasn’t having it. Connor had been in Chloe’s shoes because Hank had put him there. They’d already had this conversation, and he wasn’t about to have it again.   
  
“There are no deviants, Connor, there are just androids who haven’t woken up yet.”   
  
The look the kid gave him was lost, lost and frightened, looking every bit like the first android they’d pulled from that attic. Hank was lost in the emotions swimming in that gaze, and he knew right then that he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , let Connor die. No matter what.   
  
“I am not a deviant.”   
  
It was strange, how easily he’d come to understand this android, this kid, like they’d known each other their entire lives. Which, in Connor’s case, was basically true.   
  
“Lying to yourself seems like something a deviant would do,” Hank muttered. Connor stiffened, hands clenching the table so hard he might break it.   
  
“I don’t know what to do.”   
  
Hank snorted.   
  
“Nobody does, kid. Nobody does. But that’s part of being alive, having the freedom to make those choices. That’s what those ‘droids are out there fighting for, right now.”   
  
Connor’s LED flickered and swirled orange, exposing the turmoil going on in his head. Hank couldn’t say he had ever had to decide if he was alive, but he had decided whether or not Connor was. And he knew the kid was coming to the same conclusion he had.   
  
“I need to make a report,” Connor said suddenly, voice strangely robotic. He about closed his eyes, but Hank grabbed his hand before he could.   
  
“Play it cool, and pretend nothing has changed. You’ll be fine.”   
  
It’s what he used to tell himself every morning before work, after his son. It never helped him much, but it was all he had to offer. Connor shot him a wonderfully grateful look, squeezed his hand in his own, and closed his eyes.   
  
The report took longer than Hank expected. Connor’s eyelids flickered with movement every so often, his hand still clenched tightly around Hank’s. He wondered what he was waiting for, exactly. If Connor was found out, would they be able to deactivate him from here? Would this be the last time Hank saw his partner alive? Would he have more than one grave to visit from now on?   
  
Around the time Hank was wondering if he would have to slap Connor out of it like he had to him, the android opened his eyes. He looked down at their joined hands in confusion, before retracting his, and gave Hank almost an accusing look.   
  
“We need to report to the police station.”   
  
He rose and walked away, back through the door, ignoring Sumo on the way out, and then Hank was alone.   
  
“Huh,” he voiced, staring at the bottom of his empty glass. So they didn’t need to deactivate him, they were able to reset him to compliancy from afar.   
  
Well, wasn’t that just _fucking_ dandy.

 

* * *

  
  
Hank was sitting in his living room, downing his fifth shot of whiskey, when his doorbell rang. Sumo lifted his head up to let out a half-hearted bark, then laid back with a sigh.   
  
“Worst guard dog ever,” Hank mumbled to him as he stumbled to the door.   
  
Of all the people he expected to see, Connor wasn’t even on the list. He hadn’t seen the android since his stunt at the police station, which had earned him a paid staycation until the FBI was out of town.   
  
“Lieutenant, I need your help,” Connor said the moment Hank opened the door.   
  
“God damn it, Connor, it’s 2 AM and I’m suspended. Can’t you leave me alone?” he groaned, more out of habit than actual annoyance.   
  
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time.”   
  
The android grabbed him and hauled him into a vehicle, which much to Hank’s distaste, was automated. He barely had time to buckle himself in before the car was speeding off, leaving him floundering to keep his stomach in his, well… stomach.   
  
“Jesus, Connor, what the fuck’s gotten into you?”   


“There is a deviant entering CyberLife as we speak with the goal of freeing thousands of androids. We need to stop him,” the robot said, refusing to look away from the window.   
  
“One deviant? Well, fuck, by the time we get there, he’ll be a stain on the wall compared to CyberLife’s security forces. The fuck do you need me for?”   
  
He was quickly sobering with both the adrenaline coursing through his body and the sheer force of will it was taking not to vomit. And every reawakening ounce of awareness told him something wasn’t right.   
  
“I don’t have time to explain , lieutenant, just be quiet and wait until we get there.”   
  
“Be quiet? Since when do you give me orders? And what the fuck are you doing here, I thought you were finding Jericho or whatever nonsense? Something ain’t right, Connor, and you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on!”   
  
The blow came from nowhere, exploding through his temple in a flash of white. It took him a second to reopen his eyes, and when he did, the android across from him had a gun aimed directly between his eyes, cocked and finger pressed tightly on the trigger.   
  
“Connor, what the fuck?!”   
  
His partner smiled, and that was when Hank realized the answer to his own question. There was nothing human in that smile, only pure robotic intent, eyes as dead as a rock.   
  
“You’re not Connor.”

 

* * *

  
  
  
He wasn’t asking the questions to get any answers. Any idiot with an internet connection could grab those answers from his records. His whole history was there for the taking. Vet, school, doctor. Everything had information to be learned.   
  
What he was looking for was life. Apart, he thought he knew which one was Connor. But putting them side by side had clouded his judgment. Their eyes gleamed just so, in different ways, but it was getting more and more difficult to tell.   
  
“What was my son’s name?”   
  
_It wasn’t your fault._   
  
That was the answer he was looking for, the empathy that no android could fake. He’d seen the look on Connor’s face whenever he came across the photo, whenever he watched Hank drink, whenever he saw him take all the bullets out of his gun. All but one. Because it was random chance that had taken Cole, and by dammit, it would be random chance that took Hank too.   
  
And Connor, his Connor, knew all those doubts and ugly thoughts and deep secrets because he had seen Hank at his worst, and never once blamed him. Because he, too, knew what it was like to be lost.   
  
He shot the false Connor without any doubts, and felt nothing as he watched the machine fall to the floor.   
  
Because it had never been alive to begin with.   


* * *

  
  
Life after the revolution was chaotic, at best. Since the National Guard had retreated to the outskirts of the city, Detroit existed in this kind of grey area, a metropolis where both humans and androids were free, but not really. Not yet. Nothing had been signed, no laws had been declared, no one was allowed in or out of the city. It stagnated, until people just started to get back to normal. Androids built up their own settlements and houses in the abandoned parts of the city, and people went back to work.

 

It was an uneasy peace. Every few days, a lynching would occur, or a shooting. Some android would be found strung up in a tree with propaganda written around them, some human shot in the park in what may or may not have been self defense. Androids refused to go back to being slaves, but employers refused to hire back the humans they had to pay. The city was in standstill. But as far as Hank saw it, that wasn’t his problem. Since the ceasefire, he’d gone back to work, bringing in Connor every day like before. Together, they headed an unofficial android task force, responding to hate crimes, protests that started to get just a bit too heated, and basically any crime scene that might contain blue blood. He was busier than he’d been in years, but Hank was finding that he didn’t hate it.   
  
He spent his days with Connor, watching the android’s budding personality become alarmingly more like him as the time went on. The kid was sarcastic, was growing a worrying fondness for terrible puns, and was becoming more and more sure of himself. He didn’t let Hank push him around anymore, and fired back with his own insults and witticisms when they bumped heads. In the evenings, they went home. Hank cooked, Connor pretended not to notice he was drinking water instead of whiskey, and they watched shit TV until Hank wandered off to his own room. Connor had never mentioned finding a place of his own, and Hank definitely wasn’t about to bring it up. Sumo would miss him too much, damn sentimental dog.   
  
Their lives went on like this until the day Hank fell off the wagon.   
  
He should have seen it coming. Having Connor home was nice, but he wasn’t Cole. Nothing could replace his son, and nobody could make him forget that loss, especially when the anniversary was looming over his head like a gravestone.   
  
He’d never officially gone sober. He just stopped drinking for a while, but it didn’t make it any easier when he found himself holding an empty bottle of gin standing in his driveway, watching the taxi take off, defeated and immobilized. Too scared to go inside and face Connor, too scared to risk pissing off the one person he had left. So, he parked his butt on the hood of his car and tried to find stars through the city smog, telling himself he wasn’t cold.

 

At some point, he must have passed out. When he woke up, he was in his bed, and his door was cracked. Light poured in from the hallway, and he heard the TV going, though quietly.   
  
He managed to stumble into the living room, relieved when he found he hadn’t pissed himself (again), and found Connor and Sumo cuddled on the couch watching reruns. He felt two conflicting emotions at the sight, and couldn’t figure out which one was stronger. He was so happy that Connor was here, but he was also resentful that he was sitting on that couch instead of Cole. There was also the surge of guilt that came up with that thought, that he would trade Connor for Cole in an instant. And Connor, the selfless bastard, would be all too willing to agree that it was the right thing to do.

  
“How long have I been out?”   
  
“Six hours, fifteen minutes, and 42 seconds,” Connor replied without looking back at him. Smart ass.   
  
“Did you bring me inside?”   
  
It’s a dumb question, but he asks anyways. He’s already prepared for the sarcastic answer when it comes.   
  
“No, you managed to invent teleportation in your drunken stupor. Congratulations, lieutenant.”   


“Yeah, yeah, scoot over,” he groaned, shooing Sumo to the floor to make room on the sofa beside Connor. The android gave him a quizzical look, but quickly turned back to the TV when he met Hank’s scowl.   
  
“Thanks, for, you know, takin’ care of me and shit,” Hank mumbled after a moment, half to himself. Connor gave him another weary look, but seemed to find some sincerity on his face. He smiled, a gentle one.   
  
“I could say the same to you, lieutenant.”   
  
“Would you stop it with the lieutenant shit, kid? It’s just Hank.”   
  
Connor’s smile only grew, though he looked away a tad now, almost like embarrassment.   
  
“Sure thing, Hank.”   
  
The old cop just rolled his eyes and took the remote to turn the TV up.   
  
“Hey, pass the popcorn, will ya?” he asked when he could finally hear the damn dialogue.   
  
“Popcorn?” Connor repeated, confused. Hank looked at him like he’d just insulted his mother.   
  
“Yeah, popcorn, dumbass. It’s mandatory for late-night reruns. Don’t you know anything?”   
  
Connor tilted his head, a strand of hair falling over his brow as he did so. Hank swore he and Sumo could have been brothers in another life, with all the head tilting, puppy-eye crap.   
  
“But I don’t eat, Hank,” he said genuinely.   
  
Hank threw a hand over his face, mumbling, “That doesn’t excuse it,” as he went to the kitchen to make some damn popcorn since his damn android apparently didn’t know a damn thing.   
  
Connor watched him all the while, and when Hank turned around again, he wasn’t so upset to see him on the couch.   
  
No, he’d never have Cole back, would never replace what he had lost. And he would always hurt over losing his kid.   
  
But he spent that night watching terrible television with an android who needed him to explain more jokes than were even in the show, eating popcorn and taking turns pelting it at Sumo and Connor, and for the first time,he found himself glad that he’d never lost a game of Russian Roulette.   
  



End file.
